


Letters From Theo

by StormageddonDarkLadyOfAll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Jealous Draco Malfoy, M/M, Multi, Sad Hermione Granger, Sweet, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23357929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormageddonDarkLadyOfAll/pseuds/StormageddonDarkLadyOfAll
Summary: After the death of Theo, Blaise is over-compensating, Draco is over-working and Hermione hasn't left her bed in days.There are things that need to be said, but none quite know the words.But Theo is always right, and he made sure to leave just enough to get them through without him - if they would only share them.Restricted Section: Multi + Triads Once In A Lifetime FestPrompt: Discussing a fear after tragedy
Relationships: Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41
Collections: Once_upon_a_lifetime_TRS





	Letters From Theo

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Once_upon_a_lifetime_TRS](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Once_upon_a_lifetime_TRS) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Discussing a fear after tragedy
> 
> Thanks to ChocolateGate and NicholeIsHermione for their wonderful beta help!
> 
> Potential trigger warnings: Minor character death- doesn't show moment of death and you don't meet the character, cycles of grief (Guilt, depression, denial)

Blaise stared down at the creased parchment in his hands, working the pads of his thumbs over the familiar words. He already knew the contents by heart; he could recite it in his sleep. But even still, he kept the letter in his breast pocket, taking it out to read the words every time he was alone.

Tears obscured his vision as he read the last line and he closed his eyes tightly, willing his emotions away.

Now was not the time for this.

He had to cook breakfast.

******

The kitchen smelled of tea and toast and burnt cheese.

Blaise had never excelled at cooking, particularly in a Muggle kitchen. It had always been Theo and Hermione who had done that, coming up with enormous and utterly delicious meals at every opportunity.

Toasted cheese sandwiches were within the limit of Blaise’s culinary skills. Yet, he had still managed to get distracted somehow and had ruined the first batch. Now, he stared diligently at the sandwiches toasting in the fry pan, refusing to let them burn a second time.

“A watched cauldron never boils.” A voice said from the island behind Blaise, and he turned to see Draco leaning casually against the bench with his chin in his hands.

“Yeah well, this is a fry pan so it should be fine,” he replied, flipping a sandwich and nodding satisfactorily at the golden colour, turning the other sandwiches as well.

Blaise spun around to hand Draco his morning tea, brushing the blond’s hand with his own. Draco’s flint grey eyes connected with his dark brown, and he tried to figure out what Draco was thinking. But as they had been since the accident, Draco’s thoughts were shuttered behind stony eyes.

“What’s the plan for today?” He asked casually, turning back to the stove.

“More paperwork,” Draco informed him, sounding exasperated. “I keep telling them to put me back in the field, but they keep refusing.”

“They’re trying to be understanding—they can’t have you falling apart in the middle of a mission.” Blaise reasoned, trying to gently remind him that it was okay to need time to grieve.

But Draco wasn’t listening. “Have you ever known me to fall apart? After everything that’s happened, have I ever—”

“Yes, you have, love, and don’t try and pretend differently—I know you too well for that.”

Draco looked away, pausing before replying. “I have to keep doing things, Blaise. I have to stop thinking.”

“Draco, you can’t just forget him. That isn’t fair to him, or to you.” Gently tucking a finger under his chin, Blaise directed Draco to meet his gaze. “You need more time, love. Please trust me on that.”

Draco sighed, before gesturing with his chin at the stove, and Blaise quickly whirled around and turned it off, lifting the pan off the heat. He got out three plates and divided the sandwiches among them, cutting them all into triangles.

“Has she eaten at all?” Draco asked around a slurp of tea.

“Nothing more than celery soup,” he replied, placing Hermione’s breakfast on a tray with cutlery and juice.

“Then why—”

“I’m not giving up on her, Draco.” Blaise snapped, holding the tray aloft as he glared at the frowning auror.

“I haven’t—that’s not what I meant.” Draco rebutted, sounding wounded.

Blaise sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “I know it isn’t. I’m sorry I said that,” he said. “I just don’t want her to think she should stay like this. She’ll never get better if we don’t try.”

Draco sighed deeply, holding his forehead in his pale, elegant hand. “I know, I just—I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You can’t. Neither of us can. She has to do this herself.”

“I can’t watch her waste away like this.” Draco’s voice was raw with emotion, some of that stone finally chipping away, and suddenly Blaise thought he could see something of a storm back in his eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure.

“She _will_ get better, Draco. We just have to be patient with her.”

Draco frowned and washed down the last of his sandwich with his tea, standing up and stacking his dishes in the sink. He turned and smiled at Blaise, reaching over the tray to kiss him quickly but with deep emotion, as always.

“I’ll be back late tonight. Paperwork is kicking my arse.”

“You might’ve mentioned,” Blaise tried to joke, the air still thick with tension.

“You better get that to her before it goes cold.” Draco suggested, heading for the front door. He paused briefly in the threshold of the kitchen, turning his head over his shoulder. “You know I love you, right?”

Blaise smiled, properly for once, and nodded slightly.

“I love you too, Draco.”

******

Blaise tapped on the door with his foot before pushing it open, revealing the master bedroom.

Much of the room was taken up by the custom-made bed, specially made to fit all four of them comfortably—something Draco had absolutely insisted on, encouraged by Theo. Now that it only held three, it was much too big, a hole where a fourth person should be.

A large, engraved, wooden chest sat at the end of the bed, and Hermione was sitting on top of the chest, pulling on a pair of sneakers, already dressed in jeans and a cosy knitted jumper.

Blaise froze in the doorway, his jaw hanging wide open as Hermione looked towards the threshold and smiled right at him.

“You’re up,” he said, stating the obvious and sounding completely astonished by it.

“I’m up.” Hermione replied, her left foot slipping easily into her shoe. “I thought it was time.”

“But—I mean, that’s great, fantastic, even!”

Hermione chuckled, standing and walking over to him, glancing at the tray in his hands and grinning at the now limp sandwich.

“You really shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the kitchen.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying. But _someone_ around here has been slacking off.” Blaise’s voice was mockingly harsh, but there was hesitancy in his eyes that Hermione could clearly see.

Raising her hand to his cheek, she trailed her fingers along his jawbone, smiling softly as he leaned into her touch.

He’d missed this. He’d missed her careful, gentle affection—the kind of affection he’d only ever known from Hermione. She treated him cautiously, like she was afraid to hold too tight. Everything about her was soft, and yet she was the strongest person he knew. Her gaze, her skin, her hair, the way she was tenderly smoothing her thumb along his cheekbone—everything about her was soft.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been the last couple of weeks,” she murmured softly. “But it’s time now.”

“What made you decide this, all of a sudden?”

Taking a deep, calming breath, Hermione reached into her jeans pocket and took out a folded piece of parchment. Pinching it tightly in both hands, she stared down at it for a long moment, her eyes welling with tears. She blinked them away when Blaise laid a hand on her forearm, offering steady comfort. She squared her shoulders as her head raised to face him, sending a quick watery smile.

“Theo knows best,” she stated simply.

Blaise frowned for a moment and dropped the breakfast tray on the wooden chair by the door, wondering what Theo had written to Hermione—wondering if it contained the same level of meaning for her as the one in Blaise’s breast pocket meant to him.

Theo had written three letters before he died—one for Draco, one for Blaise and one for Hermione. None of them had shared the contents of their letters with anybody, keeping them close at hand at all times.

While their grief was shared, there were some things that they kept private.

Theo had explained that he wanted to make sure he had said everything he needed to before he died, and having been in a dangerous career—the same as Draco, Theo had been an auror—he had chosen to write it all down for them, to be given upon the event of his death.

An event that had happened far too soon.

“I want to invite Hannah, Neville and Luna over,” she continued, her voice determined. “It’s been too long since we did something… normal.”

“Are you sure, _mi amore_?” He braced his hands on her shoulders and gazed intently into her eyes, dark chocolate meeting milk chocolate. “You don’t need to rush into anything.”

“Blaise… I need to get back into everything. I can’t move forward if I’m always looking back.” She sounded like she was reciting something, and he wondered if she was recounting the words in her letter from Theo.

Blaise sighed, before lovingly enfolding her in his arms, running a hand along the hair cascading down her back.

“I’ll owl them then.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing slightly. “Do you want to go get breakfast somewhere?”

“Great idea, love.”

******

Draco’s POV

Rubbing the back of his neck and breathing out a long sigh, Draco leaned back in his desk chair. He was utterly, utterly exhausted, sleep having avoided him for the past three nights.

There wasn’t a lot he could do about it. It was impossible to sleep knowing that the two people in the bed next to you were as broken and miserable as you were. It was worse than that though—there was a distance between them now that hadn’t existed before the accident.

Draco and Theo had never been more than friends. While they both loved each other, they both knew that theirs was not a romantic relationship. Theirs was a true and honest friendship, strengthened by years of childhood companionship, and while Draco missed his friend, he felt his grief couldn’t compare with either Blaise’s or Hermione’s.

He could hardly stand to go home, to where the air was thick with despair and endless sadness. He came home after dinner had passed, knowing that Blaise would be trying to cook, trying to cover up the huge hole that Theo left behind.

Draco knew that Blaise was attempting to force the world back on its axis, trying to keep everything from coming unstuck. It broke Draco’s heart to watch him stumble about, doing everything he could think of to make up for what Theo could no longer provide.

Draco didn’t know how to do that.

He had always known where he stood before. He had always known that, if it weren’t for Theo, Draco would never have been given the chance he had, particularly with Hermione. Now that Theo was gone, he was unsure of anything. He didn’t know what his role was now. He couldn’t share in his lovers’ grief the way they seemed to need.

He could never seem to find the right words. In fact, he always seemed to make it worse. No matter what he said, Hermione always cried, and Blaise always looked at him with an expression that tore his heart out, like the Italian was asking him to take his pain away and Draco just didn’t know how.

Gathering the documents from his table into his hands, he placed them back in their file and threw his face into his hands, angling his elbows on the table.

Another reason he hated paperwork was that it was tedious and predictable, and his mind easily wandered.

_Ten days ago, Draco had been sat in this very chair when an otter Patronus had glided into his office. He had stared in utter fascination as it sat itself on his table, before speaking in Hermione’s voice._

_“Draco, you need to get to St Mungo’s now! Theo’s been hurt!” The otter had faded away to mist before he had left his office._

_By the time he had arrived at St Mungo’s, a crowd had already assembled in the waiting room. He had barely glanced at the gathered crowd— Hannah Abbott, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Pansy Parkinson and Greg Goyle—and had instead moved towards the sounds of Blaise’s elevated voice, coming from a hallway that branched off the waiting room._

_Blaise was gesturing wildly at a very tattered Harry Potter—his robes were torn, his glasses crooked, his hair even more of an offence to humanity than usual and he had two large gauze dressings on his forehead and left cheek. Hermione had been there too, standing still as a statue whilst staring at the wall with blank eyes._

_“How could you let this happen, Potter?” Blaise had screamed, talking with his hands in a way that Draco had grown accustomed to, but at this moment, had him worried._

_There was something in the way Blaise was moving, something in the way his eyes were shining, something in the way Hermione was reacting that had Draco thinking this was worse than a mission gone wrong._

_“This was clearly a trap! What the hell were you thinking?” The Italian had continued, his voice beginning to crack. “How could you let him—he worshipped you, Potter!”_

_“We finally had a break in this case!” The Boy Wonder shouted in reply, looking slightly manic and desperate. “You don’t understand, we’ve been working on this for_ four years _, we had to strike while the iron was hot!”_

_“You should have waited! You fucking Gryffindor’s never think ahead, do you?”_

_“We couldn’t wait! It was time sensitive and Theo understood the risks!”_

_“Harry,” Hermione started—her voice was tiny and brittle, and when she looked up at Harry, her eyes were still void of any emotion._

_Stopping a few feet away from the group, Draco stopped to listen to her, his mind not comprehending what he was hearing._

_“Harry, you know Theo would do anything you ever asked him. If you asked him to follow you into the bowels of hell, he would, without a moment’s hesitation. He wanted to prove himself—to you, to Ron. To me.” Her eyes had closed, and the tears had finally started falling._

_Draco had finally walked those few extra feet, catching her as her knees gave out and holding her securely to his chest while she wept into his shoulder. He locked eyes with Blaise, and then tore his gaze away, unable to meet the taller man’s eyes. Instead he reached out a hand and entwined his fingers with Blaise’s, turning his focus towards The-Boy-Who-Lived._

_“What the hell is going on?” He demanded, his mind whirling._

_“We caught a break in the McCormack case.” Harry explained, taking far too long to get to the_ fucking point _! “Someone reported seeing something on the property, so Theo and I went in to investigate.”_

_“Who was your backup?” Draco questioned, glaring at Harry as he looked everywhere but at Draco. “Potter, who was your backup?”_

_“We didn’t request any, alright?” The Bespectacled Bastard yelled, his eyes glistening. “When we got the report, it was made pretty clear that it was time sensitive and so we just jumped on it. But Blaise was right—it was a trap. There were more than we were expecting, and they’d set up a Blood Ward that diminished our magic as soon as we stepped foot on their land._

_“We found them in the house, and we were outnumbered at least six-to-one.” Finally, Potter met Draco glare. He looked apologetic and horrified, and Draco glared harder. “We tried to get around but with our magic diminished, it was virtually impossible. Somehow, we made it out of the house, but Theo… he jumped in front of a_ sectumsempra _for me.”_

 _Draco’s mind had been forced to relive his own experience with_ sectumsempra _at that moment—remembering a slash, and then a crunch as his back hit the bathroom floor. All he remembered after that was pain, blinding, blistering pain and feeling like he was drowning in the taste of something metallic._

_Draco’s eyes had flashed dangerously, and he had made a move towards Harry, but Blaise had squeezed his hand tightly, a warning clear in his eyes, and Hermione had whimpered pathetically, clinging to him even tighter as her tears stained his shirt._

_“I couldn’t get the counter-curse to work with the blood wards still affecting me, so I Apparated us here. But I guess I used up what remaining energy I had doing that because I passed out after that and… they didn’t know the counter-curse, Malfoy.”_

_“So, what are you saying, Potter?”_

_“Draco,” Hermione had whispered, her head lifting slightly off his shoulder. “Theo’s dead.”_

_A million thoughts had gone through his head then. None had made sense; none had made it out. He just stood there silently staring at Hermione as her lip quivered and tears rolled down her unnaturally pale cheeks._

_Maybe it made sense then, that in the multitudes of thoughts that danced across his mind, a couple of them were horrible. Maybe it was okay that the one thought that truly pierced his consciousness was the most horrible thought he could possibly conceive._

_But then again—maybe he was a monster._

_Because for a second, just a second, Draco had thought, ‘_ Maybe they’ll love me more now that he’s gone. _’_

_And that was the second he knew he was going to hell._

Draco shook his head to banish the memories from his mind’s eye, running a hand over his face.

He felt like he was being punished.

If he hadn’t have had that thought, would Hermione be so broken, would Blaise be this lost?

Maybe this was the universe’s way of showing that Theo really was the favourite all along. Maybe he needed an ego check.

He felt the rectangular piece of parchment burning a hole in his pocket. He didn’t need to read the words to know what they were, and he was brought to the phrase that always made him pause.

_They love you differently, Draco. Not less._

Theo was always right. That was the way it was in the house. Theo was always right, and he always knew best. But maybe this time he had been wrong.

The way they both clung to each other, sharing a grief he couldn’t—he couldn’t help but doubt they would react that strongly if something happened to him.

Draco closed his eyes against the next thought, trying and failing to erect walls in his mind to keep it out.

He had thought for a moment his life would be better if Theo wasn’t there.

The universe was letting him know, through the pain of his loved ones, the verdict of that thought.

He was a monster.

******

Draco stepped in through the floo, pausing as he took his jacket off to inhale the delicious scent permeating the house.

He couldn’t smell smoke, nor could he hear swearing and panic from Blaise.

Instead he heard the familiar tinkling laugh of Hermione, coming from the kitchen.

Taking his jacket off completely, he hung it up on the coat rack and went to investigate.

In the dining room, the table was set for three, a tablecloth laid out and plates, glasses and cutlery already waiting. Happy voices carried from the kitchen, so Draco continued through the dining room to where the sound came from.

Hermione was standing in front of the stove, using oven mitts in the shape of comical nifflers to take a roasting tray out of the oven, filling the room with the scent of basil, tomato sauce and cheese. Blaise was staring with great concentration at the chopping board on the kitchen island in front of him, carefully cutting a cucumber into uneven, crooked slices.

“Seriously, Hermione, I understand that there’s a process to the whole thing and I won’t appreciate it properly if I don’t do it properly or whatever, but can I just use a slicing charm?” Blaise whined. “Pretty please?”

“No,” Hermione replied firmly. “It’s unacceptable that a grown man doesn’t know how to cut basic vegetables. For Merlin’s sake, Blaise, were you raised in a barn?”

“A _castello_ , actually.” Blaise replied smugly, his eyes finally lifting from the chopping board to meet Draco’s.

A moment of shocked communication passed between the two men, both glancing towards Hermione who still had her back to them facing the stove, before Blaise smiled in a way Draco hadn’t seen in weeks, the smile that lit up his face and danced in his eyes.

“Well, hello there Mister Working Late,” the darker man greeted, leaning over the kitchen island to kiss Draco’s cheek. Hermione turned at her spot near the stove and grinned all over her face at Draco. “How’d it go?”

“It went fine, what’s happening here?” Draco waved his hand to dismiss the question. “You’re up,”

“That’s a common phrase today,” Hermione noted, turning off the stove and washing her hands before coming over to give Draco a tight, unexpected hug around the waist, burying her face in his shoulder.

Draco glanced at Blaise as his arms wrapped securely around Hermione’s shoulders, surprise flitting across his features. Blaise merely smiled, looking utterly content, and tossed his ruined cucumber into a salad bowl. Choosing a bottle of wine from the rack in the corner and walking into the dining room, he left Draco and Hermione alone.

Tightening his arms around the tiny brunette, Draco kissed her temple, loving the way she sighed and nestled deeper into his embrace.

“I know I’ve not been myself lately, Draco,” she murmured, raising her head just enough to be clear but not enough to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel—”

“Hey, hey,” he took a step back and raised her chin with his index finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to apologise for grieving, Hermione. Theo was—” Surprisingly, it was Draco and not Hermione who winced at the name. “He was my brother. In any way that counted. You never would have given me a chance if he hadn't dragged me along to Friday night drinks.”

Hermione smiled sadly, her eyes glistening as she remembered that truly awkward, uncomfortable, perfect first night the four of them had spent together.

Draco smiled as well as he was brought back to that night.

For the first half an hour, no one had said more than a four-word sentence. Even Blaise hadn’t found a thing to say.

That hadn’t stopped them from drinking though, and by the time Draco’s favourite song had started on the radio, he was tipsy enough to hum along. Hermione, on the other hand, had belted out the chorus with all the enthusiasm of a Beatles' fangirl.

By the end of the song, they had their arms thrown around each others' shoulders, singing in harmony as the song came to a halt. They had bonded over their shared enthusiasm of the muggle band, and Hermione had shared her shock that any of them knew of the successful rock group.

Before long, they were discussing their mutual enjoyment of music in general, although Hermione had confessed to a liking for beat poetry that Draco found disturbing and Blaise had admitted to a fondness for Swedish heavy metal that none of them understood.

It had been the start of something that Draco had come to cherish. And he owed it all to Theo.

Guilt flooded him as that horrible thought popped into his head again, reminding him what a terrible friend he was, how he had betrayed the memory of the person who’d given him everything.

“I would’ve talked to you eventually,” Hermione joked, bringing Draco out of his thoughts. “After you’d begged me for a couple of months.”

“Malfoy’s don’t beg.” Draco stated, sounding outraged.

Hermione grinned, finding the niffler mitts again and scooping up dinner. “Really?” she asked. “Not even for lasagne.”

“Lasagne is the exception to the rule,” Draco replied, following Hermione into the dining room. “Lasagne is the exception to every rule.”

******

Draco lay with his arm around Blaise’s chest, spooning him comfortingly as the Italian twitched in his sleep, while Hermione lay snuggled back to back on Draco’s other side. Every so often, she let out a sigh, and Draco carefully ran his foot up and down her calf.

He couldn’t sleep after tonight. After a brilliantly tasty dinner of Hermione’s famous lasagne, fresh garden salad and garlic bread, they had retired to the couch to watch TV as they gorged themselves on apple pie and ice-cream.

When they switched from a dark British comedy series to a short comedy film, they changed into their pyjamas and went back to the couch. Hermione had settled on the floor and cuddled up to Blaise’s legs as Draco laid his head in Blaise’s lap.

Draco had fallen asleep to the sound of Hermione’s amused chuckles and Blaise smoothing his calloused hand over Draco’s forehead.

After the movie, Blaise had softly shaken him awake, but Draco had shoved his hand away, grumbling under his breath. Hermione had laughed and kissed his cheek, calling him a grumpy baby and ordering him to bed.

It hadn’t taken long for the other two to fall asleep once their heads hit their pillows, but Draco had been suddenly wide awake. He hadn’t been able to turn his brain off.

Blaise had mentioned that he had invited the Loony-Bottom-Abbott’s for dinner the next night. He remembered sending a worried glance at Hermione, but she had just smiled and said, ‘It’s time.’

He couldn’t help but think she was trying to prove something. He had got Blaise alone in the kitchen while Hermione had been choosing the evening’s entertainment, but all Blaise could say was that Theo had told Hermione something in the letter he left, and the invite had been her idea.

Blaise had looked so happy to see Hermione making progress that Draco had quickly dropped the subject, which could have been why he couldn’t sleep now.

He hadn’t been able to get a word out of Hermione in days. Suddenly, he came home, and she was… fine? Smiling, laughing, watching things she always did and talking like she always did and cooking better than anyone he knew, like she always did.

But something wasn’t right. How could it be? He didn’t think Blaise was really watching, but Draco had been.

She’d never been that… cuddly. She had searched for affection in a way Draco had never seen before tonight. She liked her own space. She always said that she could feel crowded when people were too close and it made her feel suffocated.

Her spot in the living room was normally in the recliner in the corner, holding out her hand to whoever was sitting closest. She never sat on the couch and cuddled up. He supposed she might have maintained some distance by sitting on the floor, but Draco couldn’t help but wonder about the other things.

The way she had hugged him when he stepped through the threshold of the kitchen. The way she had grasped his hand under the table as they finished off dinner, holding their clenched hands on his thigh. She had sat on his lap for a good twenty minutes at the start of the evening, her arms encircling his neck as she laid her on his shoulder.

Now felt more normal—their backs facing each other, close but far apart; however, she had fallen asleep with her arm draped loosely over his shoulder, her small body pressed against his.

Draco was torn. On the one hand, he loved this new, warm side to Hermione. But on the other, he couldn’t help but wonder what she was covering up for.

Hermione’s POV

The house seemed crowded.

It always did with more than the boys and Hermione in the house. Before, she would have turned to Theo, and he would have smiled at her and said, ‘It’s your house, kitten. Make them leave if you want to.’

She would have been outraged, reminding him vehemently, yet again, that these were her friends, _goddammit_ , and she would not back out on an invitation she had sent out in good faith just because she was mentally deficient.

He would have grinned, and light would have danced in his eyes as he proudly declared, ‘There you are, Hermione. Was wondering where you’d got to.’

Breathing out a sigh, and telling herself that obsessing over impossibilities was _counterproductive_ , she pasted a smile onto her face and strode out into the living room, appetisers displayed artfully on a tray balanced in her hands.

“I have food!” she declared, proudly depositing her tray on the coffee table with a solid _thunk_.

Her boys smiled fondly at her enthusiasm, shuffling forward in their chairs to have a look at the options. Hannah and Neville did the same, voicing their positive critique on how the food smelled and looked. Luna just sent a dreamy smile her way, standing up and taking Hermione’s slightly clammy hand.

The blonde didn’t seem to notice, dragging Hermione into the hallway that led to the bathroom and bedrooms. She stopped there, leaving just enough light to see each other without needing to use a charm or turn on another light.

Luna cast a quick _muffliato_ , and leant back against the wall, sending Hermione a calculating look.

“I’m sorry to drag you away from the crowd, Hermione,” she murmured. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you since the funeral but you looked so terribly sad. Hannah suggested I wait for you to reach out to us. She’s usually right about these things,” Luna stared into the distance, smiling fondly as she thought of her wife.

“We haven’t always been friends Hermione,” she continued, her voice high and light. There was no judgement in her tone, only certainty, and Hermione couldn’t think of a reply. “You didn’t know how to talk to me back in Hogwarts, and I didn’t know how to explain that to you. It wasn’t until I did that story on Harry and Theo’s partnership for the _Quibbler_ that he reacquainted us and we… figured it out, I think.” The blonde smiled again, her wide, emotive eyes shining.

For a moment she was silent, and something changed in her face.

Hermione had seen Luna cry three times. Once after the Battle of Hogwarts, once when Hannah proposed and the last time was at her father Xenophilius’ funeral.

Looking at Luna at that moment, though, it was clear to Hermione that she was holding back tears now.

“Theo was my friend,” she said, her voice strong. “I know a lot of people don’t take me seriously.” She grinned quickly. “That’s okay, I don’t take a lot of other people seriously either. But Theo—he never implied that what I had to say wasn’t worth listening to. He always responded to me as if what I said was valid. He might not agree, he might not understand or even want to know, but he always, _always_ , listened to me.” The sparrow-like witch took a breath and clutched at her diaphragm, her tone serious. “I _miss_ Theo. More than I miss my daddy. I know that it can feel like you’re a burden if you only rely on one person—or two people in our case.” Hermione chuckled, and Luna brightened slightly. “So, when you want to talk to me, I’m here. Because I’d really like to talk to you.”

“I’d like that too, Luna.”

“One more thing, Hermione,” Luna informed her, reaching out a hand to grasp Hermione’s forearm before she left. “I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit more… touchy-feely with Blaise and Draco tonight. I know you used to be like that with Theo.”

Hermione blushed as Luna called her out, running a hand uncomfortably through her hair. “It’s not—I mean, I haven’t been trying to—”

“I know.” Luna assured her. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Hermione. It’s normal for humans to seek physical comfort in times of distress. I don’t understand it myself. I don’t like people touching me.” Luna wrinkled her nose in distaste but smiled when Hermione raised her eyebrows. “That’s why Hannah and I opened our relationship, you know. Neville came to the wedding and they hit it off, and given that poor Hannah wasn’t going to have a honeymoon like she wanted anyway, I invited Neville along.”

“You _what_?”

“You know, that’s exactly what Hannah said when I told her.” Luna smiled fondly, her eyes going glassy as she remembered her wedding day. “I think Neville was a bit confused also but by the second night, it was going fairly well, I think. I found them asleep on the couch watching a muggle film after I came back from hunting for boggleworms. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

Hermione stuttered, blinking rapidly as she realised, she’d been staring in wide-eyed fascination as Luna recalled her honeymoon. “Uh—well,” she stuttered. “Probably, yeah.”

“Oh good,” Luna declared, relieved. “I’ve been wondering about that for two and a half years.”

Hermione was once again tongue-tied and could only blindly stumble after the confusing woman as she walked back to the living room.

******

Dinner was going well, Hermione thought.

Everyone had seemed to like the simple minestrone soup and homemade bread to start off, followed by roast beef and vegetables. Blaise had chosen the perfect wine to accompany it, while Hannah enjoyed the sparkling pumpkin cider she had brought and stroked her growing stomach, the glow of her pregnancy becoming slightly annoying over the course of the night.

The group now happily gobbled down the chocolate lava cake and raspberry ice-cream that Hermione had made for dessert, slurping down Luna’s surprisingly delicious ‘carrot cake tea’.

“So, how’s work, Neville?” Draco asked around a mouthful of food.

They’d gotten through most of the night on deeper conversation, but it was that time of night where daily goings-on like work and hobbies needed to be updated.

“This new crop of Gryffindors is driving me insane.” Neville admitted, taking a comforting bite of lava cake. “They don’t listen to a word I say about the actual subject, all they want to know is the bloody sword and snake and do you know how _boring_ that story gets after telling it over and over again for half a decade?”

Hannah chuckled and ruffled his hair, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she drank down a sip of hot chocolate. Neville sighed and smiled bravely, glancing back at Draco.

“How about you, Ferret-boy?” he inquired jovially.

Draco grinned, sending a smug look around the table. “They’re putting me back on the field,” he professed.

Only Hermione seemed to notice the clatter as Blaise lost his grip on his spoon for a moment. Instead, the blond auror ploughed on, his face aglow with excitement as he told them his great news.

“I spoke with Robards this morning and he’s putting me and Harry together so—”

“He’s _what_!” Blaise exclaimed, standing quickly to glare down at Draco.

Hermione glanced awkwardly at their friends, before grabbing the boys’ hands and pulling them forcefully into the living room. She heard Luna make a comment, and then both Hannah and Neville shushed her. Hermione could only imagine what Luna had said.

“What are you bloody well talking about, Draco?” Blaise was demanding before Hermione could cast a silencing charm. “What are you doing going back out there? And with _Potter_?” he spat, causing Hermione to frown in disapproval. “Need I remind you it’s because of Potter that Theo _died_?”

“Blaise—” Hermione pleaded, stepping forward and reaching out a hand.

“Do you really think I’m that incompetent Blaise? Nothing is going to happen! I know what I’m doing!” Draco roared over Hermione; his pale face flushed in anger.

“So, what, Theo was incompetent?” Blaise inferred, and Hermione’s shoulders slumped, already exhausted.

“That wasn’t what I meant, don’t put words in my mouth!”

“Enough!” Hermione shouted, eyes blazing.

The boys turned to look at her, their faces flushed and panting. Hermione sighed, glancing between the two. She shook her head sadly, before her eyes connected with Blaise’.

“Blaise, what’s the problem here?” she questioned, trying to keep her voice level.

“He can’t go back out there, Hermione, it’s too soon!” The wizard insisted, using his hands to illustrate his point. “He’ll get himself hurt, or worse.”

“I won’t Blaise,” Draco promised, his voice suddenly pleading. “I know it’s soon, but I promise I’ve got this.”

“But what if you don’t?” Blaise still looked angry, but desperation was clear in his tone. “What if something happens? What if—”

“Blaise, sweetheart, what is this about?” Hermione queried, stepping into arm’s reach. “What’s going on?”

Blaise lowered his head, his hands twisting in front of him. She didn’t move her gaze from him, waiting for him to answer.

“What if something happens, Draco? What if Harry gets another tip and rushes in without backup and it’s _you_ that we’re burying next time?” Blaise moved the couple of feet over to the blond and gathered him into his arms. “I can’t lose you too, Draco.”

Draco smiled, her eyes filling with tears as Draco stood frozen in confusion.

“What—I don’t—” He stuttered.

And suddenly, Hermione understood.

She’d been too wrapped up in her own grief to notice. Draco was not a studious auror. He did paperwork, sure, but he left work promptly at 5pm and got home with enough time to have a shower before dinner.

Since the funeral, Draco had been getting home later than ever, and leaving home early as well. He had tried to talk to Hermione, but when she hadn’t replied, he had left, leaving her and Blaise alone to deal with their grief together.

Hermione hadn’t thought about it much at the time, but maybe that choice had been more than an inability to deal with complex emotions.

“Draco, we’re both worried about you,” she told him, padding across the room and taking his hand. The contact seemed to bring some life to him, and he wrapped his remaining hand around Blaise’ waist. “We know you’re careful, but Theo was too.”

Blaise placed his hand gently on Hermione’s shoulder, looking at her with teary eyes with his head leaning against Draco’s shoulder.

“I didn’t realise—I thought that… I thought that it was just—”

“Draco, we love you. Did you really think we weren’t going to be worried about you going back into active duty? Especially after what happened?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

Draco blushed, and Blaise swore in Italian, before cupping Draco’s face in his hands.

“ _Mi amor_ ,” Blaise started forcefully. “You are my moon, just as Hermione is my sun.”

Hermione bit back a smile as she internally melted.

“Anything that puts you in danger concerns me. I couldn’t handle it if you were taken from me too.”

“Blaise is the calm to my storm,” Hermione joined in. “Theo was my… fun and spontaneity,” she smiled around the lump in her throat at the almost painful cliché. “You challenge me, Draco. You fascinate me.” Draco raised his elegant eyebrows at her. “And don’t let this go to your head but I agree with Blaise. I don’t think I could take it if I lost both my fun _and_ the one person on this planet who presents a challenge to me.”

She smiled as Draco grinned at her and let him draw her into the group hug. She ignored her immediate impulse to shrink away and instead wrapped her arms tightly around her boys, breathing out a sigh as the hole in her chest stopped aching for the first time in more than a week.

“Please be careful, _caro_ ,” Blaise murmured, his voice muffled in Draco’s shoulder. “We love you differently, Draco. Not less.”

“You know,” Draco replied, sounding thoughtful. “Theo said the same thing.”

No one said a word for a moment, before Hermione interrupted the quiet. “I think we should read the letters, guys,” she said. “We should know everything Theo had to say.”

The boys didn’t reply immediately. Instead the attention was taken by the bright blue light of Luna’s hare patronus, which found a spot on the floor and sat back on its haunches, speaking in Luna’s cheerful, breathy voice.

“We think you guys have some things to talk about, and we’ve finished pudding so we’re going to go. Neville suggested I send this rather than coming in and making things awkward. Bye!” The hare hopped off, disappearing in shimmering mist.

The trio let out a few loose chuckles, before Blaise suggested getting into pyjamas before reading Theo’s letters. Hermione wholeheartedly agreed, needing a few minutes to summon the bravery to reveal Theo’s precious words to anyone.

******

Hermione sat on her favourite recliner, clutching Theo’s letter between her fingers. Blaise sat at one end of the sofa while Draco sat leaning against the arm of the other side of the couch. The air was tense with awkwardness as no one knew how to begin.

Deciding to act like the Gryffindor she was, Hermione took a deep breath and uncurled her legs, opening her letter.

“ _My darling kitten,_ ” she read, her voice cracking with grief and slight embarrassment. “ _I know that right now, that great big head of yours is full of thoughts. It’s probably yelling at you so loud you can’t hear anything else._

_“You can listen to those thoughts for ten days, Hermione. After that, I need you to get up. I need you to get out of bed, start seeing your friends and go back to work._

_“I need you to be brave. I need you to be the Gryffindor lioness I know you are._

_“Ten days, Hermione, and then I need you to go out there and take the world by storm, as you always have and are destined to do for the rest of your life, but you cannot move forward if you are always looking back._

_“I know you’re going to make me proud, kitten. But how about you try and surprise me?_

_“All my love, always_

_“Theo.”_

Hermione folded up the parchment with deliberate, careful movements and sniffled, pushing her hair away from her wet face with trembling hands. Blaise was sending a gentle smile her way and Draco was looking at her with a soft expression. She let out a quivering breath, trying to smile through the veil of tears.

“Who’s next?” she asked, her attention diverted to Draco as he cleared his throat.

“ _Draco, my dear friend, don’t even think about blaming yourself, you little shit. Whatever happened, it was probably me doing something thoughtless.”_ The trio chuckled at the words Theo left, hearing his tone through Draco’s aristocratic voice.

“ _Make sure that Blaise doesn’t drown himself too much in trying to look after Hermione, and make sure that you don’t avoid them too much._ ” Hermione frowned as Draco blushed, his eyes glued to the page as he continued. “ _You need them just as much as they need you._

_“Please trust me on this, my friend._

_“They love you differently, Draco. Not less._

_“I’ll miss you, my brother._

_“Love them well for me._

_“Theo.”_ Blaise reached over and grasped Draco’s hand in his, smiling while Hermione trailed a hand across her cheek, removing all evidence of her emotional state.

Hermione couldn’t help but wonder at Theo’s plea for Draco to look after her. The fact that Theo knew her so well that he knew she would fall apart completely in the event of his death filled her with mixed emotions. Fondness for Theo, and gratitude for him and her boys, but also disappointment in herself for being so predictably weak.

“Blaise, your turn,” she said, smiling encouragingly at the taller wizard.

“It’s in Italian,” he murmured in reply. “But the translation reads, _Mio fuoco, don’t cry too much for me. Don’t look back and wonder. Don’t get stuck in the past._

_“You are beautiful, mi dolce, and we are beautiful together, as we have been since we were children. You do not need to forget the beauty of us._

_“But, mi amor, do not get so lost in remembering us that you forget the joy you have found with Draco and Hermione._

_“Look forward, caro. Don’t get stuck up on me._

_“I’ll wait._

_“Till we meet beyond the Veil, and our love can begin again._

_Theo.”_ Blaise’ voice was low but steady as he repeated the vows from their wedding last year.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, her chest tightening painfully as she realised that all the preparations she had made for her and Theo’s civil ceremony in three months would need to be cancelled. Draco seemed to sense her discomfort, reaching out a hand which she grabbed gratefully.

The room was quiet for a few minutes as they all took in Theo’s words. Hermione’s mind whirled, replaying his words over and over in her mind.

“I guess Theo _is_ always right,” Draco finally concluded. “He had that pretty spot on.”

“He knew us better than we know ourselves.” Blaise stated, fiddling with the buttons of his pyjama shirt. “Of course, he’s right.”

“We should’ve done this earlier,” Hermione murmured, wringing her hands in her lap. “We can’t get through this unless we get through it together,”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you as much as I should have been,” Draco muttered, looking shame-faced. “I shouldn’t have avoided this. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s alright, Draco.” Hermione assured him, squeezing his hand softly. “Just come home now, okay?”

“Promise Draco.” Blaise added, his voice firm but vulnerable. “You have to promise to always come back.” Draco turned to Blaise and pulled him into his arms, stroking his hand along the Italian’s forehead.

“I promise.” Draco pledged, his eyes connecting with Hermione’s. “I’ll always come back, Blaise.”

The conversation seemed to be over at that point, and Hermione was content to leave it there. There was nothing further to say.

As usual, Theo had figured out exactly what to say at exactly the right time.

Hermione didn’t know what life was going to be like without Theo. She couldn’t imagine it would be easy, and she also didn’t assume that this was the last time she would cry over her beloved.

But she knew now that she’d get through this. They all would.

If they had each other, and they got back to the way they used to be—communicating honestly and giving support to each other—they would find their way through this.

Running her fingers over the creased parchment in her hands, Hermione smiled at her boys, her chest warming as Draco kissed the top of Blaise’s head.

They’d get through this. Theo had said so.

And Theo was always right.


End file.
